Record of Cultivation of Deflated Demons

Stand and tolerance, and can get rewarded quickly.

Thinking of this, Orin felt tired. He wished a little black-faced cat would emerge from his arms, but he knew that Karas was in the temple, performing the duties of a god.

Callas had told him about his current arrangement a few weeks ago.Before Advent, Karas was busy with the affairs of the temple and could only visit Orin when he was asleep.

"Ah……"

Orin yawned and curled up in his fur cloak.The fur was hunted by Ain himself in the northern habitat of monsters to celebrate the birth of Orin.

The cloak was carefully crafted by tailors, and even now it fit Orin's frame perfectly.

This cloak Orin has been using since he was a child, but he grew too small when he was young, about the size of a human baby, and it is easy to roll into the depths of the fur and disappear, so it needs careful care.

Originally white, the fur has, over hundreds of years of use and care, faded to a soft beige, a reassuring color.

Orin closed his eyes, knowing that Anna would find him in half an hour, send him to the bedroom with a few golems, and he would fall asleep and wake up amidst the joy of financial growth and the unhappiness of feeling flawed , to meet the next day's work.

Thinking of work, Olin scratched the scales on his waist, which were a little swollen.It was always like this in the few days when he just returned to the dormitory from the construction site. The swelling of the scales would last for a few days, but no one would pay attention to it, and it would not affect his life.

Going to the construction site is a chore.Ellowyn's magic power leylines are the reflection of the mother star, and the magic power situation at the construction site is extremely complicated, which can only be sorted out by pure-blooded demons who are proficient in magic.

Under the dual requirements of knowledge and blood, it is imperative for Olin to do so.He also thought about cultivating an heir, but failed.Therefore, this responsibility cannot be shaken off like glue.

"what……"

Orin grunted again, thinking that it would be great if a little black-faced cat came out.

As he thought about it, there was a slight chill under his feet, and then the chill came to him with a fresh mint fragrance.

——It can be said that all wishes come true.

Olin closed his eyes and laughed, "Here comes my kitten."

As he spoke, he opened his eyes and stretched out his left arm.Callas was wearing a magician's robe, and his whole body was entangled in unconcealable fatigue and excitement, like an apprentice who had just discovered something wonderful after class.

"I'm coming."

Callas said, kissed Olin's cheek, then carefully pillowed on Olin's arm, and leaned his face against Olin's chest.

There's never been a better time in the world, Orin thought, rubbing Karas' hair lightly.

"You are not busy with the duties of the gods, why are you here again?"

Karas squirmed: "Believers also need to rest. They go to sleep, and I will come."

Orin had heard the same thing the other nights before, except that it hadn't been cold enough for a fur cloak.

Orin didn't care at all, warming himself by the fire at night with his fur cloak around Callas, happy to serve this country for another 1000 years.

Thinking of this, Orin raised his tail and patted Karas's rear, which Orin used to fondle Karas when he was a black cat.

Callas hugged Orin's tail, covering his waist with it.

"So I can maintain etiquette in bed?" Olin smiled wryly.

The royal family of Ellowyn has strict etiquette standards for tail placement.When standing, the tail should droop slightly without landing;

When sitting upright, the tail may rest on the knees, or hang over the back according to the style of the chair, and the tail standing between the legs to the front of the body is impolite and disrespectful;

As for how to put the tail when lying down, Orin didn't know, it was a mysterious etiquette only for ladies.

"What kind of etiquette should you pay attention to when you're all under the covers..." Karas gently scratched the scales at the base of Orin's tail, and groped in the gaps.

"Occasionally, I want to pay attention to the red tape..." Olin yawned, "Don't dig the cracks for me, and I won't dig your nose for you. You still have to enjoy some happiness by yourself."

Karas slapped Olin's buttocks, and the crisp voice softened under the blanket.

"It's basic etiquette that the tail can't touch the real thing. Your tail is almost crushing me into a cat cake. What other etiquette can we talk about?"

Olin laughed "haha".

Callas added, "I'm here to pick my booger. You have to be happy before you're happy, aren't you?"

Some strange thoughts suddenly flashed in Olin's mind, "May the booger of the God of Time and Space bless next year's finances."

He laughed.Followed by sympathy for the concubines of Rose Castle, my God, if Ain is going to perform duties with the concubines, their tails will have to maintain etiquette all day and all night.

Fortunately, everyone doesn't need to keep it that long.It is ridiculous to pay attention to etiquette when procreating.

Of course Karas didn't know what was going on in Orin's mind, so he thought he was being laughed at by him, so he pressed his face and kissed his lips.

The refreshing breath entered his breath, and Orin felt like he was smelling a lonely peppermint.

It's unremarkable, but completely belongs to him.In this way, all the strange thoughts in his mind disappeared.

After the kiss was over, Karas seemed to remember something: "The puppets asked me to send you a letter, and I put it on the table. If it's official business, I hope I didn't delay you."

Olin lost interest in an instant. Although his puppets love Karas, there are still etiquettes between creations and gods. What kind of letter needs the God of Time and Space to carry it?

"Show me..." Olin said.

Callas put his hand out of the cloak, turned it deftly, and a letter appeared in his hand.

Olin took it, the wax on the envelope was mottled, but it was still barely visible: the shape of the wax was a rose surrounded by a counterclockwise ring of fire, which was the coat of arms of Mandelkerit.

What does this kid have to say?With doubts, Orin opened the envelope and read the letter by the flickering light of the fireplace.

The content of the letter is short: "Dear father, I am sorry for my stupid behavior. If I had asked the goddess of the hunt, the gods would have stopped me. However, the cold wind of the penal colony has the same effect as the high walls. .Mandelkerit."

Mandelkerit would call Olin father when no one else was around, something Olin forbade him to do, which would pose political risks.However, he couldn't teach a lesson to a letter.

Confession, confession is always useless.Olin put down the letter, and his expression returned to normal.After all, Karas was by his side, and he had no time to be distracted and consider others, and even his political judgment was simplified a lot.

Callas was nestled against Orin's chest, and he still looked like a cat, given the difference in height between the two.Small, quiet, with soft hair.

"Are you ready?" Callas asked.

"Ah."

Olin responded, and the letter flew back to the desk.The cloak was also tightly closed, leaving only his head exposed.

There was a wonderful feeling of the coldness fading in his arms, after all, the God of Time and Space was not as warm as the black-faced cat.

Callas said again, "I'm going to sleep first."

Olin originally wanted to continue talking with Callas, but he understood the exhaustion of official duties better, so he stopped talking.

Orin's thoughts went back to the moment of the injury, the pain was not important, the thoughts then and now were somewhat the same.

It's worth pondering, if it's not about him being the victim himself, but about the whole thing: there's always something to be dissuaded by a god, and every creature needs a god.But the living creatures are endless, and the gods are limited.

Olin felt a little lucky. Fortunately, he had Karas. Karas healed him of the fatal injury caused by the artifact, found a suitable development direction for his territory, and did not forget to withdraw from the busy affairs of the temple. Come with him.

Compared with these, Orin's old annoying jealousies seemed stupid and trivial.

When Orin's thoughts returned to reality, Karas had already fallen asleep in his arms.The fire of the furnace flickers, outlining the innocent face of the gods.

Karas's sleep was so unceremonious that if Orin hadn't held him, he would have flown out of his cloak, sprawled like a kitten.